


From A Distance

by tiny-freakin-head (Hobbitfing)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Scout being unsure if he likes men, Sniper being unsure if he likes humans at all, animal death mentioned, masturbatory fantasies, pretty fluffy, so far - Freeform, social ineptitude, some use of the f slur, vaguely described masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/tiny-freakin-head
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper has been away from people for a long time. Scout is curious about his teammate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From A Distance

Though the base was pretty sprawling and it was by far the most space Scout had ever lived in, it still felt cramped inside. He needed air. He'd already gone for a jog around the track after dinner. There wasn't much to do out here after battle was over. They didn't even have a TV out here yet. His teammates were mostly a lot older than him and it was still only a week into their work. They were all strangers, and none of them wanted to play catch. Pyro had tried, last night, but that mask had been a serious handicap and they'd ended up cracking one of the black tinted lenses and leaving Scout to waste time alone. 

Jaw working, Scout blew a bubble, turning so his visor protected his eyes from the sun. He gave the ball a few practice tosses, gauging the wind. “Here comes the pitch,” he shouted, grinning. “You can try and keep your eyes on the ball, folks, but it’s gonna be movin’ too freakin’ fast!” 

He threw, body twisting, arm extended, watching as the ball vanished into the desert, already growing dark as the sun set behind it. 

“And it’s a perfect pitch! Youuuu’re outta here!” He did a little victory dance, waving his arms in the air and making sounds like a crowd cheering.

*

Out in the desert, the Australian was crouched, waiting , watching, bowstring taut, eyes half-closed in the twilight so the light wouldn't reflect off them and give him away. He was barefoot, wearing only his trousers, his skin brown with the sun and damp with sweat even as the desert air cooled around him. The deer came out in the twilight to visit the shallow body of water that the Sniper had staked out, and a young stag tentatively stepped closer, not having scented or spotted the silent man with the bow. He felt hunting for his own meat and being totally self-sufficient was worth not having to be around his teammates. 

He’d only met two of them so far; the Medic and the Engineer. The first was rather horrifying and he hadn’t wanted to repeat the experience. The Engineer had been a quiet man, but something about him prickled the back of Sniper’s neck and set his teeth on edge. Most of the people here would do that, he was sure of it. They were all dangerous.

Just as Sniper felt it was the perfect time to release his bowstring, something came out of the sky, bouncing across the dirt towards the buck, startling him into bolting. 

Sniper stood, cursing, unleashing his arrow in surprise. He stood and went to pick up whatever had fallen. It was a baseball. Scowling, he picked it up and went to retrieve his arrow.

"Yo! Over here!" Scout called, waving his hand to get the guy's attention. He'd hesitated for a moment--the guy was carrying a fuckin' -bow- after all!--but he was a freakin' mercenary. He got paid to kill guys like that fuckin' giant Russian. This guy was, like, a quarter of his size. Still, he approached a little cautiously, jogging closer.

Grabbing his arrow, Sniper turned and frowned at the skinny runner. He’d seen all of his team from a distance, watched them. The Scout was obnoxious and loud, he could often hear him from up in the tallest parts of the bases where he camped, but he was fast and as nimble as a cat. Licking his lips, trying to quell his nervousness, he waited for the other man to approach, fingers clenching around the arrow.

"Uh…hey, there. I think you've, uh, got somethin' of mine." Scout's mouth was suddenly dry, and his palms were sweating. Fuck, was he getting sick? He couldn't seem to meet the other guy's eyes, couldn't stop looking at his pert, brown nipples, the way his tight pants--slung low on his hips--hugged his groin… 

Scout shook his head, forcing himself to pay attention. "My, uh, my ball."

Sniper tossed it to him, a gentle underhand.

"Th-thanks." Fuck, now he was stuttering! What was wrong with him? Turning his back on a man with a bow and arrow was hard, but Scout trusted in his legs to carry him to safety. 

He turned and ran.

Sniper walked back to his camper. It’d be leftover rabbit tonight.

*

That night, during his usual, after-hours batting practice, all Scout could picture was the tall, lean, brown man he'd met on the edge of the desert. Even when he grabbed one of his brittle, crumbling magazines and flipped to his favourite pages, all the girls shifted in his mind, their pale skin turning sun-brown, their curves becoming lanky, sweat-damp muscles. 

He finally threw the magazine aside. Fine. Fuck. He'd finish, thinking about that crazy desert guy, just for one night. It was just…he was coming down with something. That was all. 

He came as quietly as he could--though, given the sounds he'd been hearing from other rooms, he didn't need to bother--wiped himself clean, and fell asleep.

Engineer set out the last tray of food, scrambled eggs, and watched everyone shuffle in for food and serve themselves. Scout was late for breakfast, he noticed, which never happened. That boy was usually the third person in the kitchen after him and Pyro. He also looked like he hadn’t been out for his run yet, he was still in his pyjamas. 

Grabbing his own plate of food, Engineer patted Pyro’s shoulder and went to sit next to Scout.

“You feelin’ okay, son?”

Scout's head jerked up, guiltily--shit, he was thinking so loudly, Engineer had picked up on his thoughts! "M'awake! I'm up. I'm, uh…what?" He yawned, blinking at Engineer.

“You’re usually more awake than this,” Engineer gave him a smile. “Anything bothering you?”

"N-no, nothin'. Why?" he asked, suspiciously.

“You’re just actin’ a little off, is all. You didn’t even get breakfast. Are you sick?”

Medic perked up at the word sick, looking around like an owl.

Noticing the creepy German's attention, Scout gave a warning hiss, flapping at Engineer. "Keep it down, wouldya? Alright, uh…there was this weird guy yesterday. Out in the desert. With, like, a freakin' bow and arrows! I wasn't -scared- of him!" Scout scoffed, puffing out his chest, "He was just freakin' weird. Spent the whole night wonderin' if I'd wake up in respawn with an arrow in my chest."

Engineer ducked his head a bit too, trying to avoid Medic’s gaze. “You mean the Sniper." He kept his voice low, matching Scout's secretive tone.

"Wait, what?" Scout laughed. "Nah, this guy was a total weirdo. Like an Indian or somethin'. Wild. Y'know?"

“That definitely sounds like him,” Engineer nodded. “He’s real solitary, hunts his own food. Doesn’t much like people, I think. I’ve only met him once. Had to walk out to where he camps and introduce myself though. Did he say anything to you?”

"Are you freakin' serious right now? -That- was our Sniper? I mean, yeah, some of the guys are a bit off, but this guy…" Was gorgeous. Handsome. Lickab-- "This guy's probably, I dunno, makin' lampshades outta roadkill!"

Engineer quietly decided not to agree with Scout out loud. But it was definitely a possibility. Though, honestly, when he’d seen the man, he’d seemed nervous, like a half-wild horse who wasn’t used to being around people. He seemed to want his space and Engineer wasn’t going to deny him that. 

“Just give him space and everything will be fine, he parks his camper van out to the west of the base, so you probably won’t run into him unless you go out lookin’.”

"Ya coulda warned me there was a crazy…nut job runnin' around out there!"

“He ain’t crazy, no more than Solly or Medic, or any of us. He just ain’t sociable.” He turned back to his food. That was the end of that, as far as he was concerned.

"Uh huh. You didn't see him. I thought he was gonna shoot and eat me."

Engineer chuckled. “You’re too skinny to be any good to eat, I wouldn’t worry about it. Go get some breakfast.”

"I'd be freakin' delicious," Scout protested, sticking out his tongue and scrambling up to get his food.

*

Scout hadn't really thought about their Sniper one way or another before. He'd never seen the guy, but he knew he was there. He'd see the red dot of a laser, or someone's head would explode in a fine, red mist beside him, and he'd yell, "Thanks, pally!" while waving more or less at random. 

Today, he was on a mission. Well, besides his usual mission of being completely freakin' awesome. He tracked the heads vanishing, tried to figure out where the bullet had come from. He eventually found where he thought the Sniper had to be, but he couldn't summon up the courage to climb into the rusty water tower. 

*

He'd never focused on one particular teammate before today, but he found his scope on or around Scout quite often after their little run in the other day. Sniper spent most of his time watching people, it was one of the things he was really, truly good at, and he had mostly written Scout off as a loudmouth who couldn't aim and went through respawn at a horrific rate.

But watching him run today, he felt something different for the youngest of his teammates. The way Scout moved was primal, all grace and fluid ease, his feet sure and the joy of his speed on his face. He leapt between rooftops fearlessly, climbing things several times his height and bouncing off them like a bloody cat. Watching him move was like watching a big cat hunt; it left Sniper feeling oddly breathless and he wasn't sure he liked it. 

Or maybe he just wasn't sure he should like it. 

He couldn't help but keep an eye on the Scout.

*

He couldn't stop thinking about the fucking Sniper. Not while he fought, not while he showered--and wasn't -that- a shit show, trying to shower in front of six other guys while hiding his boner--not while he had dinner. Not when he was safe in bed with his magazine and lotion. 

He sat up when he'd finished, smacking his forehead against the wall a couple of times. It was cool, and he felt a little better.

*

Tonight Sniper had caught his buck and had some venison stew cooking over his fire, his bread cooking in the coals underneath, buried in a drover’s pot. He had a little sketchbook with him and he drew while he waited for his food. The young face of his teammate slowly appeared on his paper. He hesitated, taking a moment to sharpen his pencil with a knife while he tried to remember how exactly the freckles fell across the runner’s cheekbones. He gnawed on the end of his pencil.

He wished he could capture how the Scout looked when he ran, when he jumped, the coiled muscle, the tension… he'd tried a few times and finally flipped over to a new page, sighing through his nose.

*

Day two of Sniper-watch. The sharpshooter didn't have breakfast with them. Didn't join the others at the pre-battle muster point. Didn't shower at the end of battle, at least not with the others. Wasn't there for dinner. Scout didn't see him all day, not even once, but he couldn't get the stupid, crazy guy's face out of his head. 

"Fuck it," he grumbled, kicking at a rock angrily. He jogged into his room, grabbed something, and trotted out to the weird-ass camper in the middle of nowhere. Even more nowhere than the rest of this place.

There was a fire pit out front. The camper was old looking, but well cared for. There was a hammock strung from the camper to a post nearby and in it laid the Australian he’d been thinking so hard about, his hat over his face. 

Sniper heard the shuffling of feet and opened his eyes under the hat. His fingers slowly inched out the pocket knife from his trousers, but otherwise he stayed perfectly still, breathing slowly and evenly.

Not seeing the other man in the deep hammock, Scout cautiously approached the camper, frowning. "Hey, uh, Sniper." That should mean he was pretty safe, right--the guy was a sniper, and he was really close by. Hopefully. Probably. Fuck. Maybe the guy was crouched out in the desert, watching Scout through his scope right now, sweating in the lingering heat from the sand. Maybe he'd even taken his shirt off, his golden skin darkening even further. He'd lick the sweat off his lip, and Scout wondered how it'd taste. He'd touch himself through his pants, watching Scout, waiting…

Scout shook himself, swallowing hard. "Fuck. Shouldn'ta come here," he muttered.

Sniper frowned. Getting out of a hammock stealthily was nearly impossible, especially on the sandy earth of the desert. He cleared his throat instead, sitting up and putting his hat on. He put the knife away. The kid clearly wasn’t here to attack him or he wouldn’t have given himself away. 

He hadn't expected the runner's accent to be so thick, though to be honest he couldn't hear anything distinguishable from the Bostonian during most battles, just his jeering cutting through the gunfire and explosions.

"Holy fuck shit!" Scout scrambled backward, tripped over something, and fell flat on his ass.

Sniper stood, slowly. He’d thought maybe his height would intimidate the kid into leaving, but as always it just made him feel awkward and gangling, like a scarecrow. It took him a couple quick breaths to finally manage to speak. 

“What d’you want?” It came out a bit harsher than he’d intended, but he didn't want the Scout to hang about.

"I, uh…" Fuck, this guy was tall. And wild-looking. And…fuck. No. He wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't like the rest of his team. He wasn't a fag. 

"Engineer…told me you've been, like, huntin' for your own food. Thought you might like this." He held out a Baby Ruth bar, still sitting in the dust.

There was a long pause as the Australian stared at the white and red wrapped chocolate in the Scout's hand. For a moment, Sniper felt like they weren’t speaking the same language. The runner had come all this way out to see a total stranger to offer him a candy bar? 

“Thanks,” he fidgeted with the edge of his pocket. “Why?” Fuck, what should he do in this situation? What did the kid want?

Scout shrugged, feeling his cheeks grow hot. He looked away, slowly scrambled to his feet. "Dunno. I just…thought you might like somethin' sweet." Scout's eyes widened, his face going redder. "Bye." He threw the candy bar at his apparent teammate and ran off.

Sniper caught the chocolate and stood stunned, watching the Scout sprint away. Fuck, he’d really messed that up. Whatever you were supposed to say to situations like that, Sniper had definitely not said the right thing. Slowly breathing out, he unwrapped the candy bar and took a bite. 

It was sweet, almost too sweet, the nuts inside crunchy, everything else soft and chewy. Sniper went inside and finished eating it with the last of his cold decaffeinated coffee. 

He flipped open his sketchbook and started to draw again, smiling a little as he kept the last of the chocolate on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> not sure if we'll continue this one, it does end rather nicely. but we had hoped to develop their relationship a little more! we'll see! no promises


End file.
